Have you ever wanted to tell somebody off? Dickens shows us how:
‘You are known to me now. There are no reproaches I could heap upon your head which would carry with them one thousandth part of the grovelling shame that this assurance will awaken even in your breast.
‘Your brother’s widow and her orphan child spurn the shelter of your roof, and shun you with disgust and loathing. Your kindred renounce you, for they know no shame but the ties of blood which bind them in name with you.
‘You are an old man, and I leave you to the grave. May every recollection of your life cling to your false heart, and cast their darkness on your death-bed.’
—Nicholas Nickleby to his uncle Ralph Nickleby in Charles Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby
I wish I could tell the snow off as effectively…